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Money and maids

If you give in each time, you're perceived as a "soft touch". If you don't, you're a hard-nosed bitch. That's the thing about money and maids.

But what do you do when the new domestic help asks for a loan? And then quickly terms it an "advance" on her next salary?

That's what my cook did today. She's been with us for less than five weeks now. In which time, she has been erratic and turns up at various times. She has also not been totally honest--when she started, she had promised to be home by 11.30 am. So that my little boy can have his lunch by 1 pm. (Before we hired her, I was doing the housework and cooking and running to pick him up from school/ferrying him to fitness classes. Basically, I barely had time for my freelance assignments or even, to sit down and catch my breath).

But our cook actually turns up now between 1 p.m and 1.30 pm. Because she never told me she had a prior commitment. When she's fell ill this month, I insisted that she take time off to fully recover. And no, I do not intend to dock her pay for the days she missed.

Yet now, she wants a loan/advance. For me, hiring domestic help has become a necessity--I have aged parents who live in another state. In an emergency, if I have to be by their side, my husband will not be able to manage home, child and job (he works full-time, unlike me). So we work really hard. And we value hard work. Also, we value honesty. For us, the domestic help is worthy of respect if she/they do their job well, are professional, and turn up on time.

So anyway, I said no to my cook. And felt really bad about saying so.
What would you do in such a situation?

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I am walking in the neighbourhood park.
Not for pleasure, but exercise.
I am striding along, trying not to puff and pant.
Thinking of those damn 10,000-steps-a-day that I never seem to do.
Thinking that I must get my cardio rate up, get those endorphins going.
Walking and trying to avoid the others on the path.
The burqa-clad women around me talk noisily,
Some are there to walk seriously, but most are not.
They sit there, like beady-eyed beetles, watching, looking, and to my mind, judging.
So do the men.
No, let me rephrase that.
Many people in the park are there simply because they have nothing else to do.
Or perhaps this is where they see life pass them by.
Where they see what ifs and what might have beens.
Where they see happiness that could have been theirs.
Where they see lives shaped by both circumstance and choice.

In the park, the ones who are not walking desultorily, chat and hang around.
The serious runners impatiently overtake the rest of us slower mortals.
Suddenly, a vo…